Differentiation
by xxBrokenxxAngelxx
Summary: House is back from Mayfield, and Wilson doesn't know what to think. House is still attempting to differentiate between what was, and what wasn't. What happens when he doubts his friendship with his best friend ever existed? Rated M for strong angst.
1. What's Real?

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This isn't slash, at least I don't think it'll be. However, it'll be very angsty. Hope you like it. First time at a Housie fic. Many flashbacks, but that'll be a one time occurance. Sorrie!

An idea for this fic was triggered by an all dialogue one shot fic by Juliabohemian called "Delusion".

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**Tell Me What's Real**

It had been about a week since House had gotten back home from the institute. A week since he'd stepped into work. A week of ignored phone calls. Seven days of Wilson going to House's doorstep and pressing his ear against the door to hear for some sort of clarification that House was moving around. That House was alive.

Seven nights of Wilson almost falling asleep against the door to House's fingers delicately playing on the piano.

A week since he'd gone to pick up House on the day he was being discharged. A week since he'd gotten back from a conference out of state.

A week since he's been unnerved out of his mind over his friend.

His best friend.

Who, for some reason had his therapy bring him to conclude otherwise.

Sighing, Wilson sunk to the floor in front of the door, his back pressed up against it. He ran his hand over his tired face and let his head lean against the door. Of course, he had a spare key. But House was ignoring his calls for a reason.

---

_The three weeks before he'd left for a conference out of state, House had been a mess. Every time Wilson went to visit him, House's eyes would widen and then clench shut. If he said something, House would immediately start hyperventilating._

_It was frightening. Seeing his best friend almost flinch away from him, and hug his knees as he almost curled up into a ball._

_Not only was it frightening, it was something that happened almost every time Wilson stepped into the room after House started his meds, after House started therapy. He always glanced over the papers that monitored House's condition, and he seemed to be getting better. He'd detoxed off the Vicodin entirely. And all his hallucinations seemed to have disappeared. At least, Amber and Cutner seemed to have. There were others, apparently, but were undisclosed. House apparently didn't want to say so, or whenever he tried to, he'd go into a full fledged panic attack._

_However, the weirdest thing was, whenever House's shrink decided it was best for him to be discharged, and Wilson went to visit him, they would be proved otherwise._

_After some recurring situations, the nurses and psychiatrist advised Wilson to stop visiting, but to feel free to look at some of the tapes if he really wanted to._

_This was when Wilson snapped. He went straight to the guy who owed him a favour and barged into his office without bothering to knock._

"_What did you do to him?"He demanded._

_The man looked up at him frowning, and tilted his head to a side._

"_What do you mean, James?"_

"_He's afraid of me."_

_A moment of confusion revealed itself in the hazel eyes of the other man. Then enlightenment filled them._

"_Oh, James. Sit down."_

"_Don't treat me as if I'm a patient. What's wrong with him?"_

"_He's realized. That's all."_

"_Realized WHAT?" Wilson felt his voice hit another pitch, completely foreign to his ears._

_Eyebrows furrowed together in the other man._

"_That you guys weren't really friends. The fact that you continue to come only makes him get confused, as to why you would do that. He's yet to understand that you really are compassionate."_

"_I…What?"_

"_James, calm down." A chuckle. "I know all about who you are. But for you to be in such a strong relationship with that man, as a friend, obviously, that was a hallucination. You were a colleague, and you worked right beside him. He confused that with reality. He confused that with what he wanted. Obviously, he wanted a friend, but the reason he was so pushy with you was because he thought you already were."_

_For some reason, this didn't settle in._

"_What do you mean? We were friends."_

"_James, stop being you. It's not helping him. He needs to know what's true. You were an acquaintance, and maybe you found some sort of attachment in his clinginess, but we both know that he wasn't good for you. He told us everything, how he ruined most of your marriages-"_

"_Wait, no. That wasn't him. That was me. I cheated on them. All." Wilson cut in, hearing his heart pounding in his ears._

"_There you go, being you again. Understand, that won't help him in this situation, James. You care for everyone, you think everyone has a good side to them. The more House pushed himself on you, the more you took it because you thought he needed someone, anyone. But that's no reason to become a martyr."_

"_What? No, he was my friend. I wasn't only his friend…I mean it wasn't a one side thing-"_

"_Wilson, stop. This is a waste of time. You've finally gotten him off your back. Come back to visit him in about a week, and he'll understand more so."_

"_I'm leaving for three weeks; today's my last day to see him."_

"_All the better then. Enjoy your trip-"_

"_It's a conference, and what do you mean all the better? I have to tell him I'm going.."_

"_No. You have to stop encouraging the delusion…What did he say that his hallucination constantly told him? Ah, he said he was an enabler."_

"_No-no! That was me. I said it."_

"_Of course, with your pushover personality, you may have as well. On another note, I'm busy, James. Relax. I don't want to end up seeing you here." The man looked back down to his paperwork._

_For some reason, Wilson felt his legs going numb. He turned around and started towards the door, almost stumbling. As he started to walk out it, he stopped at the other man's voice._

"_Oh, and James, think about it this way. It's a good thing. You finally have him off your back. You can have real relationships, real friendships. You won't ever have to convince him again that you two were never friends. Good bye, James."_

_Never friends._

_Oh God._

_Wilson closed the door behind him and found himself on his knees. He fell to his side, his hand reaching out and hitting the floor._

_House thought the friendship had been a delusion._

_House didn't think himself worth a friend like Wilson._

_Tears overcame Wilson, and he found himself in silent sobs, shaking as he clamped a hand over his mouth._

_---_

The piano stopped playing and Wilson jerked himself out of his thoughts. He heard his friend walking from one end of the room to the other, the cane thudding beside his foot. It was a little past twelve.

It had been so long since Wilson had heard his voice. House hadn't picked up the phone for anyone. His ignored phone calls didn't really unnerve anyone, considering it was normal. However, Lisa had worried. Lisa was the one that had told him about the day House was being discharged, which was the day he'd gotten back from the conference.

Wilson heard the television turn itself on.

This isn't how House was supposed to be after the admission.

---

_James Wilson drove as fast as he could to the institute. The three weeks he had to be out of state had to have been the weeks House had gotten better. And the day he got back had to be the day he got discharged. When Lisa had left the message on his voicemail, he put back on the shoes he'd just taken off and ran back to the car._

_Glancing at the clock every minute, as the time got closer and closer to noon, Wilson had to refrain himself from pressing harder on the gas. After all, getting a ticket would prevent him from seeing his best friend first after being discharged._

_He burst into the institute just as it hit noon, and bumped right into a man with a set of bright blue eyes._

_Bright blue eyes that widened at his entrance._

_Stumbling back, Wilson watched his best friend drop his backpack and take a step back. Wilson took a step forward and felt something poke his chest. Looking away from the blue eyes he saw a cane pressed against his chest. He frowned. It didn't shove him back, nor did it hurt. It was just there, holding him back._

_Wilson grabbed onto the cane and, to his surprise, pulled it from his loose grip easily. He dropped it on the floor and took a step towards House._

_His breath seemed to have sped, and he looked around almost frantically. Then he stopped, and closed his eyes. Wilson watched, confused and concerned, as his friend calmed himself down._

"_Hey, James." The voice that met his ears was a voice that chilled Wilson to the bone. Emotionless. Apathetic. But something underlined it, something like panic. Or maybe that was his own imagination?_

"_House?" Wilson heard his voice come out hoarse. He almost wanted to hug the other man._

_House smiled, and Wilson found himself freeze at the false expression on the other man's face. "Thanks for holding my stuff all this time. You could've just left it here."_

_What was he saying? That would've meant there was a chance his license would be revoked. Numbly, Wilson put his hand in his pocket and pulled out a set of keys, wallet, and some other abstract things. He looked at it. He held it out in his hand and watched at House took it._

"_Thank you. Please tell Lisa I won't be in for work for a while, but I appreciate the gesture."_

"_W-What?"_

"_That's why you're here, isn't it?" House asked, tilting his head to a side. "On her behalf, right?"_

_He looked beside House to a nurse who was viewing Wilson with creased eyebrows._

"_No-I'm here because we're friends."_

_House laughed. "Oh, I see. Yeah, they told me you'd say that. How nice a guy you are. Oh! I know why you're here." House opened up his wallet and took out a folded blank check. He handed it to Wilson, that horrible fake smile on his face. "I don't know how much I owe you for all my troubles. It's probably priceless, but please, take a good amount. If you don't, I'll be forced to take an amount out and hand it to Lisa to give it to you."_

_Wilson watched as House placed the check in his hand and put his wallet in his pocket. He limped to his cane and picked it up, and brought his backpack up as well. Wilson stared._

"_I-I'll give you a ride home." Wilson found himself saying, almost pleading._

_House started to walk, limp? past him and shook his head._

"_No, it's okay. I'm done with burdening you-"_

"_I-"_

"_Even though I know you'll say it isn't. Good bye, James."_

_Wilson stood in shock as he watched his friend walk out the doors, pull out his phone, and heard him call for a cab._

_---_

Wilson jerked again as the sound of the television turned off. Some shuffling. Maybe he was going to bed?

Some more shuffling, a door being opened, and then noises that were too quiet to decipher.

Wilson glanced at his watch. Past 2am now. He was probably heading to bed. Wilson sighed, and walked out of the hallway, returning to his car.

He missed his best friend…And he didn't know how to get him back.

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**Please review.**


	2. Stop

Disclaimer: I own nothing. This isn't slash, momentarily. Rated M for angst. Thanks for all the reviews; meant the world to me.

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**Stop, It Hurts.**

"I don't care what you do, but bring him in. I need to talk to him. It's been over a week, and he's ignoring all my phone calls-"

"Lisa, I can't. He's ignoring my phone calls, too." Wilson found himself saying for the third, or fourth? time.

"He ignores everyone at a lot of points in his life. You always manage to break through."

Wilson couldn't find himself to repeat what the acquaintance from the institute told him before he'd left. How House had made it so that the friendship never existed. How he thought it was all a hallucination.

Wilson felt a pang as he realized this. It really did hurt – _What would make House think their friendship meant nothing?_

"I'm giving you a day off. Spend this day to get House to me by tomorrow." She looked up now, from her paperwork. Wilson was startled to see her eyes shining brightly. "Please."

Dumbfounded, Wilson nodded, and turned around. He left her office and closed the door behind her. Knowing that the wall was see through, he waited until he left the building and got inside his car before he found tears falling from his face.

_People care about you, House. How could you think that that was all a figment of your imagination? What would make you think less?_

---

Gregory House was staring at the wall opposite of him blankly. There was a glass of scotch in his hand.

The past week, he downed himself in alcohol, trying to forget his realization of what a pathetic life he lived. Now he realized that he did have one highlight of his life that he might actually lose if he went on the way he did –

His job.

The psychiatrist had tried in vain (and succeeded) to convince him that he really was one of the best diagnosticians in the world- That people all over the world would come around to see him.

That's probably why Cuddy had been calling. She couldn't bear to lose one of her top employees.

Then again, maybe Cuddy had been calling him so much to tell him that she couldn't afford to have a crazy person who hallucinated having sex with her to work for her?

After all…Surely, Wilson would've told her.

If he hadn't, however…That would mean he still had a chance. After all, Cuddy had taken House back in after several stints of rehab.

Then again, what stopped Wilson from telling?

_His nice guy attitude that you took advantage of._

House heard a crash and looked down at his hand from the blank wall. His hand was shaking. The glass of scotch-Ah. He dropped it.

He looked down at the floor and saw the shattered pieces of glass. He'd have to clean that up.

How could someone like him, someone who claimed to be oh so rational, make up such an irrational world? Have a friend like Wilson who would WANT him around, after all he'd done to him? That was completely irrational. After all, who'd want to spend time with someone like him? Who actually pushed people away, pointed at their flaws..._Killed their girlfriends_..

He sighed, remembering all the phone calls, all the voice mails. From Wilson. For someone who didn't really care, he put up a really good façade. Probably afraid he'd kill himself. Cuddy probably told him to make sure nothing was different from before he'd left.

Wow, he must've been rather clingy.

House leaned back against his couch and looked up at the ceiling.

He killed Wilson's girlfriend. How is it that he remembered Wilson telling him that they'd never been friends, yet…

All the exasperation in the glances Wilson gave him, why didn't House read more into them? What had made House conclude that Wilson would tolerate him nonetheless?

Hell, House had even driven Wilson away from his job…

_He came back._

That was because he was a nice person, though.

_Pathetically clingy. That's what you are._

His best friend…All the things that happened between him and his best friend…

House found himself shaking again.

_How's it feel to realize the best things in your life were all things you wanted to happen so badly that you hallucinated all of them?_

Some sort of noise that was completely foreign to his ears ripped its way through his throat.

He covered his face in his hands and leaned his elbows onto his knees.

He was still shaking.

---

Wilson was still driving to 221B – House's apartment. As he stopped his car at a red light, he decided to let House know he was coming over. Maybe he'd answer the door this time.

_What makes this time different from all the others?_

Wilson had absolutely no idea. Nonetheless, the phone was in his hand, and he was dialing that all too familiar number.

---

When the phone rang, House found himself jerk. Surprised at himself, House resumed back to mopping up the alcohol he'd spilt. The phone had run countless times throughout the day the past week, and he'd actually started to tune them out.

He supposed he was still jumpy from actually facing reality, what he'd done earlier.

_Not really __facing__ reality. Just not denying it._

"House?" Wilson, again. Yet, his hand, holding the cloth, stopped scrubbing. "House, I know you're there." House shivered. The voice was so…His hallucination had made sure everything down to a tee. ALl the conversations, at his house, at Wilson's house. Wilson's voice sounded as if it was shaking-

_With worry? With concern? Or with fear?_

If he'd been Wilson, he would've moved to another state. House pretty much stalked him, harassed him, all on a day to day basis. Hell, he'd have stayed far, far away from him for a very long time.

It was odd that Wilson jumped right back up.

_Maybe..._

No.

It was probably his own fault, making Wilson so accustomed to his being.

The voice was still talking.

"…and if you don't open the door, I'm using the spare key you gave me. House, you know we need to talk. I'm almost there."

Click. He'd hung up.

Spare key? House actually felt his blood turn cold. Was he hallucinating again?

_No, you've been off the Vicodin for far too long._

Schizophrenia?

_They would've diagnosed it before you left._

Maybe he'd bypassed it someway? He didn't put it past himself…

_Maybe you gave him the spare key randomly when you thought he'd moved in with you?_

House sighed. All the times Wilson had been in all those marriages, House thought he spent most of those times with himself.

_You can't blame yourself. You had a fucked up childhood. And Wilson worked right next to you. He was a nice guy._

But he'd met him before that, hadn't he?

_Unless that was a hallucination too._

When did they start, then? The hallucinations... Or maybe they had always been friends. Just not best friends.

_Vicodin started after Stacy left. You and Wilson got closer after Stacy left. Well, you thought you did._

He felt nauseous. This always happened when he tried to dig at what had been placed to him oh so blatantly.

_So, then, rationalize why Wilson is coming over, won't you?_

Cuddy probably told him to check up on him.

House pulled himself to his feet and found his cane. He dropped the cloth onto the coffee table and leaned on his cane.

He looked down at his cane.

All the times he'd made Wilson pay for his things, bail him out of jail…

He let himself smile a little. They had had fun though, a lot of fun. Or was that all fake too? The jokes, the pranks…

Oh, his head.

House let the cane fall to the ground with a loud clatter and took a step back, clutching his head in his hands.

He needed to forget…

_Just wait until Wilson comes. That way, when he leaves, he won't tell Cuddy about what a drunk you've been._

Somehow, he ended up on the floor, still wet with some of the alcohol. He felt some glass that he must've missed cut into left thigh. There was a pang in his right thigh from the sudden movement.

And his head still hurt.

He positioned his body so that he was sitting on the floor with his back against the bottom part of the couch. He straightened out his right leg, groaning a little. He saw some drops of blood from where the glass was cutting into his other leg. He made no move to prevent further injury.

After all, the pain itself took his mind off of things.

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**Reviews are always nice!**


	3. Rivalry in Reflections

Disclaimer: The last chapter was totally too short. Sorry it took so long.

**Rivalry in Reflections**

"House?" Loud knocking. "House!"

House didn't bother moving from where he sat. He heard the noises of keys and viewed the door from where he sat, watching as the scene blurred over.

---

"_So tell me about the people closest to you." The psychiatrist sat on the chair, with his glasses perched on his noise. He had a leg crossed over the other, and looked at House with an air of something all too similar._

_A puzzle. That's what he was. A puzzle to diagnose. It's been about a two weeks since he'd been in here. Amber sat, perched on a table to the right of him in the room. The table was filled with newspapers and a telephone. _

"_Tell him about Wilson." Her voice chided, a frown on her face. For some reason, as of lately, she'd been looking annoyed, almost frustrated._

_He looked back to the psychiatrist who regarded the flicker of his eyes to the corner as something more than just a flicker. _

"_What is she saying?" He flipped past the pages of the past couple days of House's short abrupt responses. "Amber…What's she saying?"_

"_Oou, he knows my name House. He must feel smart."_

_Sighing, House let his eyes linger on Amber's grey ones. Now they reflected concern. _

"_The more you talk, the faster you get out of here." She hopped off the table and started towards him. "It's a psyche issue, because you're off the Vicodin. Your mind is trying to tell you something. I'm here until that's resolved." She crossed her arms and looked at him defiantly. _

"_Alright, fine, we don't have to talk about her. Tell me, Greg, how was detoxing last week? Must've been very painful. You're probably still experiencing the aftermath."_

"_He obviously doesn't know what you can deal with." She rolled her eyes at him, before turning her eyes back to House's blue ones. "Say something."_

"_Does your leg hurt?" More sounds of shuffling pages._

"_Tell him your leg hurts. He'll give you something for it. Say something, House." _

"_Wilson's the closest person to me. He always lets me walk all over him, but he's there when I need him. All the time. I killed his girlfriend."_

_House never once took his eyes off of Amber, and as these words left his lips, she froze, standing stock still._

_The psychiatrist shuffled some papers, and House finally broke his gaze, and looked at the man who was fumbling to write all of this down, before looking up at House with wide eyes. Then they narrowed. Then they reflected something like recognition._

"_He was always there whenever you needed him? Even after you killed his girlfriend?"_

"_That's odd. He didn't ask how you killed me. That means he thinks you're out of your mind." Amber said, tilting her head to a side and putting a hand on her hip. _

_House thought about the question. _

"_Yeah. Well, he left for a bit."_

"_Of course, wouldn't anyone? How did you kill his girlfriend?"_

"_You've answered enough questions for today. Your head hurts again, doesn't it? Tell him to go away." Amber walked up to the psychiatrist and tried to push him away, only succeeding to fall through him. She landed on the floor._

_House watched her get back up again. Then she stopped and walked up back to himself, something like anxiety in her grey eyes._

"_Gregory?" The psychiatrist dropped the clipboard to the ground._

"_House?" Amber mumbled, her hand coming up to his face. He didn't feel her. Then again, why would he? The closest person to him was a figment of his imagination, momentarily. _

_She blurred, and so did the rest of the room. The last thing he saw was the world tilted to the side as he fell from the chair and onto the ground, blacking out._

_---_

The door opened, in House's blurred vision. Wilson stumbled in, breathing heavily. House blinked, trying to clear up the room. He succeeded, marginally.

"House! What the hell-House?" Wilson's eyes widened at the other man's unfocused eyes. He started towards him, slowly, and the smell of alcohol reached his nose. "You're drunk." He stopped in his tracks.

"Not momentarily." Came House's reply, almost defensive. A shadow of his old self, if even a shadow.

House was regarding Wilson almost cautiously.

"House?" He found himself whisper, and took another step forward.

---

_They no longer put in to sit in a chair during their sessions, so he lay in a single bed. The shrink sat beside him, assessing him with curiosity. Amber sat on her bed. _

"_Tell me more about Wilson."_

"_House, I'm somewhat…translucent. Does that mean I'm leaving?" Amber asked, and indeed, she certainly was see through. "Ask the shrink, maybe he'll tell us."_

"_He'd come over at all the right times, and I could go to his house whenever I wanted to. Even when he was married, and going from one marriage to another, he still made plenty of time for me, whenever he could. He's a really interesting person."_

_The shrink looked at House calculatingly._

"_He doubts you." Amber mumbled, getting up off the bed and standing beside House. House looked down at his leg. _

_--- _

House started to pull himself up, using the couch arm for support. Wilson started to walk towards him again but House put out a hand, almost defensively. Once he was on his feet, he looked up at Wilson, who looked at him with something unreadable in his eyes.

"Did Lisa send you?"

"Ye-No! She gave me a day off to get you, but I'm not only here because of that."

_Is he really here?_

"I'll be in work tomorrow." House found himself responding, cautiously. He ignored the second part of Wilson's sentence. He stood there.

"House!" Before House could blink, Wilson had grabbed him by the shoulders. As Wilson started to shake him, something snapped in his brain.

The next couple seconds consisted of panic and confusion within House's mind.

When he opened his eyes, Wilson was standing over him with wide eyes, and he was back on the ground. His hands were on the floor behind him; apparently he'd fallen back on them. He was breathing heavily, his heart pounding in his ears.

_Smooth._

_---_

"_Let's talk about your childhood, Greg."_

"_I look really creepy. You can totally see through me. I'm not even like slightly opaque." Amber mused, walking from one end of the room to the other. _

"_I had a loving mother who tended to my every need and a father who was strict when necessary." House automatically found himself replying. The shrink looked at him. _

"_Now, how about the truth?" _

_Amber stopped pacing. She looked at the shrink, who had a smug look on his face. "He's smarter than he looks." She looked back at House. "Tell him about the sick fuck you had as a father." She said, lightly._

"_That is the truth." House dryly replied. Amber tilted her head._

"_Right. You're only here to get rid of me, not to fix the ghosts that haunt you from your past." _

"_Did you make friends easily?"_

_Amber laughed, her voice ringing through the air. Then her demeanor changed as she imitated a man. "Friends only hold you back from your true potential." She stated harshly, and then laughed as she took a step towards House, who never once took his eyes off of her. She put herself in his lap, straddling him. "All…you…need…is…" She put her nose to his, eyes narrowed and a playful smirk on her face, "Your mother and…Me."_

_Gregory House snapped, and frantically attempted to push Amber off him. She only raised her eyebrows and in a flurry of panic that took place in his mind, somehow managed to push himself off the mattress and end up on the floor. Images that were once repressed overwhelmed his mind and he found himself kicking, mentally numb to the searing pain taking over his right leg._

_He was blind to the nurses that rushed in as the shrink tried to calm him down, the only thing flashing before his eyes images of the past. _

_He felt a slight pinch, and the images dissolved into grey eyes that belonged to Amber. And then she was gone._

_As soon as he saw he disappeared, he welcomed the nothingness of being unconscious, as one last thought, her words, ran through his mind - "Finally." She breathed._

_And he blacked out. _

_---_

**Please Review. They make me happy? :)?**


	4. I’m Real, Real, Real

Disclaimer: Not mine. I like twisting things. Sorry it took so long. This is unedited.

_I wrote this in a review reply, and decided to add it to this for clarification anyways: T__he reason Amber is gone is because she, or some subconscious part of House's mind, concluded that he would finally get the help he needed. First, when Amber died, House was wracked with guilt that didn't apply to him, due to Wilson's reaction and what not, and he was already on edge. However, when Kutner died, purely within himself, he blamed himself for the death, not seeing it come, and what not. Amber is the part of House that doesn't always want to be right, wants to relax, wants to be okay with being wrong once in a while. It's why she kept sending switched messages throughout the last couple episodes where House tried to diagnose and kept coming up wrong. When he used his rational mind, he was fine, but Amber was the part of him that wanted to lay back and just let go, the part that wanted to get help - To feel better. House consciously couldn't care less if he was feeling better or not, but subconsciously longed for a real life, with the final hallucination with Cuddy and what not. When he freaked out and the recollection of memories occurred, House subconsciously and consciously freaked out. But finally the conscious part of his mind concluded that he needed help, and that now, he just might get it. Once Amber made sure that occurred, she was unnecessary. The more House came to terms with the fact that he was a little screwed up, the more she started to disappear. Now that the final bomb has dropped, (sexual abuse along with physical abuse, the sexual abuse having been repressed), House is out of control of his mental state of mind. Although Amber is now gone, this is where the 'fun', starts. Started. You'll see what happens in the flashbacks, as the psychiatrists don't notice this completely and focus on something unhelpful altogether._

**Hello, Remember. I'm Real, Real, Real. (JoJ) **

_---_

"House, you're bleeding." Wilson somewhat whispered, still standing over him. His expression was utterly unreadable. There was shock in his eyes at House's overreaction.

House's thoughts were racing. He was shaking.

"Please, go." House found his raspy voice, and heard it as it met with his ears. However, he didn't recognize it at all.

Wilson, on the other hand, stared. He crouched and tilted his head to a side, his eyes meeting directly with House's own, so that they were both at the same level.

"You said please, House."

_Does he really have to bring up what an impolite jackass you were?_

"I also said go after that. Apparently saying 'please' doesn't work all that well." House found himself replying dryly, trying to hint at his old self. Maybe that would make Wilson go away.

"House, it's me." Wilson mumbled, looking into his eyes.

House blinked. Then something clicked.

_Fuck._

---

"_Amber's gone. I should get discharged soon." House stated to his shrink, although knowing he was in no state to leave. He'd yet to sleep since she'd left._

_Nightmares that all too well haunted him when he was a child lingered in his thoughts while he was awake now. If he were to sleep…_

_Sleeping in the basement beside the furnace, how the heat had scorched his body, how when he went upstairs in the morning with boils and red skin his mother had freaked out. Then the complete opposite- Ice baths, the cold…so cold that it burned… The nights he spent out on the porch…And then-_

_Then the nights he was good. The nights in his bedroom._

_The caresses. The soft coaxing words. The…the breathing…the-the pain…the.._

"…_Gregory, are you even listening to me?" House snapped his head up as these words met his ears. All of a sudden, he was aware of how shallow his breathing had gotten. "Something wrong?" Furrowed eyebrows on the other person._

_House shook his head and licked his dry lips._

"_Sorry. Was thinking. It's what I'm supposed to do here, right? Mull over my pathetic life?" Why so defensive?_

_The shrink said nothing for a moment._

_House sighed._

"_Well, to repeat – We have concluded that you may have hallucinated more than just Amber and that night you thought you spent with your boss."_

_---_

"Really? Is it really you?" A frown on House's face as he tilted his head to a side. Wilson just stared. It sounded as if his voice was trembling, and his words were filled with something like pain. Wilson saw hope as well as something else in those blue eyes.

And then House was up again. Startled at the sudden movement, Wilson almost fell back. He got up in front of House and was only pushed roughly aside, stumbling back. Wilson watched as House went straight to the phone. There was a notebook beside it where he started to feverishly turn the pages.

"House..?" Wilson, now timid as well as puzzled, walked up behind House. When he saw the number House was dialing –

_Mayfield Psychiatric Hospital_

-Something snapped in his head.

Wilson panicked, and grabbed the phone from Houses's grip. Without thinking, he flung it at the opposite wall. It made a loud crash and Wilson flinched as it broke, and then fell to the ground with some clattering noise.

House stood there, with an odd look on his face.

Wilson realized he was breathing really heavily. Afraid to touch House, due to the reaction he'd gotten earlier, he took another step closer to his best friend.

"House, look at me." God damn, why was his voice shaking now?

House continued to stare where the phone had, to eloquently put it, died.

Then, the last word he expected to hear from House at that moment fell form his lips-

"Cool.

---

"_No. Wilson's my friend. I'm HIS friend. I didn't force him to be-We met at a bar, he threw stuff-Jail-He's my FRIEND." House couldn't believe he was yelling, what had happened to his composure!?He was shaking too, and the shrink was eyeing him with slight interest. _

"_We asked him what he knew about your childhood. He said nothing. House, if he was your friend, he would know something. You wanted him for company, for clarification you don't always have to be alone. You wanted someone to care without the intimacy-"_

"_No." House whispered, cutting into the shrink's explanation. The both of them fell into silence. _

"_House, from the things you told us, Wilson was in many different relationships and marriages, yet always made time for you. You, who, took money from him at any occasion, annoyed him to no end-"_

"_That's what friends do. He's my friend."_

"_He worked next to you. He put up with you. You made it out to be far more than it really was."_

"_No-He came to my house and-"_

"_House. Hallucinations aren't always a one time thing." He cleared his throat. "This makes the most sense. We asked some employees and they too admitted that the friendship you two had was very one sided, even though he was always very nice to you. Hasn't he ever done anything that made you doubt the friendship, the fact that he truly cared?"_

"_No, he-"_

_House heard something in his ears, something like sugar shaking. He started to shake his head, and then stopped. _

_Amber._

"_House?"_

"_He once asked me to risk my life to save a girlfriend. But-But wouldn't anyone do the sa-"_

"_The girlfriend he later told you that you killed."_

"_I-"_

"_The girlfriend that you later hallucinated about?"_

"_I.."_

"_There's a connection."_

_House's legs (or leg) gave away, and he crashed to his knees. He fell on his palms, so that he was on all fours. The shrink called for a nurse, it sounded very far away, and then shoes rushed to him._

"_Greg-" There was a hand on his back, but House flinched away._

"_I'm fine." mumbled House, before collapsing onto the floor, his mental exhaustion catching up to him. _

_---_

"Well, if that's how you're going to play, I guess it's fine. I could probably deal with this. I did for a while, didn't I? I mean, this is my house. My place. You're right here, I'm not bothering you." House limped over to the coffee table and picked up the bottle of scotch. He looked absently in the direction of the kitchen, probably for a glass, and then shrugged, and put the bottle to his lips, drinking it down.

Wilson started towards him, reaching out for the bottle, who House swiped away, sticking his tongue out at him.

Confused at the sudden change in personality, Wilson let both of his arms fall to his side.

"House?" Wilson opened his mouth and then closed it. He thought over what he was going to say. "What are you talking about?"

House looked over his shoulder at Wilson, and sighed. "You know exactly what I'm talking about."

"No…I don't…" Wilson slowly replied, frowning. House looked at him, almost calculatingly. Then he shrugged, and took another swig of the bottle. "Stop drinking!" Wilson heard himself yell, and before he knew it, the bottle of scotch was in his hand.

House looked at the bottle, and then up at Wilson. "Seriously?"

Wilson searched House's face for some sort of answer to his actions. "What?"

House, however, ignored him. "Well, that must mean I really don't." He looked back up at Wilson. "I've made you go plenty of times before though. Just have to exasperate you enough. Right? Or maybe I should act normal.." House mused, now absently looking at Wilson.

Wilson stared. What the hell was he talking about?

House looked down at the floor for a moment while Wilson just stared at him.

"House..?"

"You leave whenever I need you. That's what happened last time. Every time. Whenever I really need you, or admit to needing you, you just leave." House stated, looking back up into brown eyes that widened slightly.

"I-"

House shook his head, half smirking. "Don't bother; I know you're only acting the way I want you to."

Wilson took a step closer to House, frowning and worried for his sanity.

"House, I don't know what the hell you're talking about." Wilson said, slowly. House shrugged and looked down at his hands, where the bottle of alcohol was.

"Of course you don't, I don't want you to. Means you might go away again." House mumbled, and looked back up at Wilson, now a broken look in his eyes. Then he sighed, and the look disappeared, leaving Wilson to wonder if it'd ever been there in the first place.

_**If I don't turn out perfect, will you be a friend of mine?**_

_**---**_

"_House, are you alright?" _

_Wilson had disappeared. Along with Amber. Once the realization sunk in. They were all right._

"_House, we have to talk about your nightmares."_

_House found himself shudder. When he'd collapsed at the realization, images and memories that were long time gone appeared before his eyes. When he woke up, he'd felt all slurry and when he asked what happened, they told him he'd thrown a panic attack, and they'd had to sedate him. _

_---_

"House…" Wilson didn't really know what to say, but let his voice trail off anyway.

"I need you. I need you so much." House finally stated, looking up into his eyes. At first Wilson's breath knocked itself out of him. Then he caught the assessing and calculating gaze House held. He was…tricking him?

"I'm not going to leave you now." Wilson said, breathlessly. House snorted.

"Of course not. You're going to be here as logn as I want you to, or as realistically as possible." House stated, sighing. Wilson couldn't tear his eyes away from House, who now looked absently down at his leg.

And then, without warning, Wilson felt a fist smash into his jaw, throwing him back. He hit the floor hard, and felt hot liquid start to pour from his mouth, along with unbelievable pain.

"Cool." House said, before turning back to his couch and sitting down.


	5. Shh, Keep Reality A Secret

Disclaimer: Not mine. I like twisting things. Disclaimer: Not mine. Seriously.

_Sorry this took forever, guys._

**Shh, Keep Reality A Secret.**

Wilson sat on the couch beside House, nursing to the beginnings of a bruise on his jaw, with some ice cubes packed in paper towels. He'd spat blood and spit into the sink of the bathroom for a good ten minutes, but for some reason, couldn't bring himself up to be angry.

And now he sat next to his…former? best friend, staring at that soap House loved so much.

House was staring blankly at the television, pretty much ignoring him. Wilson was confused beyond belief. Why had House punched him? Why had House-

'_You leave whenever I need you.'_

Wilson bit his lower lip, and brought his hand from his face, looking at House intently. Was he right? He knew he hadn't always been the greatest of friends, but House had been his best friend as well. Surely, that meant he didn't treat House like dirt, right? Moreover, he didn't really treat anyone like shit, did he? He certainly never intended to…

"What's with the staring, Wilson?" House abruptly asked, turning his head to frown at Wilson. "You're making it painfully obvious." He stated when Wilson didn't answer, and looked back at the television.

Wilson looked at the ice cubes packed in the napkins in his hands. They were melting.

"Want to go to a club?" Wilson found himself ask, although his inner voice chided him for wanting to go out with a big bruise on the side of his jaw.

"No. Might want to talk to you." House replied, and changed the channel on the television. Wilson frowned at this and put the ice cubes onto a coffee table. His jaw was throbbing, and he knew he'd look like hell come an hour or so.

Was House implying that he wouldn't be able to talk to Wilson for that reason?

"What?" Wilson managed to say, and tried to numb the pain on the lower part of his face.

House looked at Wilson, and there was a sort of absent look in his eyes. "Wouldn't want people to think I'm crazy, that's all."

With that, he got to his feet, grabbed his cane, and proceeded to limp to the kitchen.

Wilson sat were he was, feeling almost insulted. He was the one that had punched him, after all.

"Want anything?" House called out, while Wilson continued to muse over what House had just said.

He got to his feet and followed after House.

"Not really hungry." He stated and House paused, holding the refrigerator door open.

"I guess I'm not, either. Just…wanted something to do." House looked back at Wilson, and looked at …well actually, House was looking through him.

Wilson wanted to ask if House was okay. Hell, he wanted to shake House until House told him everything that was on his mind.

But apparently touching the other man was out of the question. House had flinched, pulled away, and fallen back. He'd looked frightened, so…scared. So…timid. Something Wilson had never seen in the other man's eyes before. Something he was sure he'd never wanted to see in House again.

"House…What happened?" Wilson found himself murmur, partly hoping House wouldn't hear him.

The refrigerator door closed, and Wilson made himself stare at House's hand, gripping onto the handle. His knuckles turned white.

_This is where you tell him he doesn't have to tell you if he doesn't want to, James. _

Wilson said nothing, and continued to watch as House stared at the sink, silently.

Then two words that he hadn't expected to hear fell from the other man's lips.

"Get out."

Blue briefly met with brown before looking back at the sink.

The eyes that looked at him weren't filled with hatred, or even distaste. They weren't filled with disdain or depression.

They were completely empty.

"House.." Wilson started, moving towards him, but House's eyes shot up to his again, this time filled with a kind of hysterical panic.

"Stay away." He whispered, and Wilson realized House was backing away from him.

Wilson stopped, and watched at House continued to back away, until his back hit the wall. Once he hit the wall, he sank to the floor, his eyes still on Wilson's, panicked and wild.

Wilson couldn't help but take another step forward-

"NO!" Hands were brought up to his ears, and his shout resounded in the kitchen. Wilson froze. What…on earth had happened?

"House, I-"

"Get the fuck out!" He shouted, and eyes now proceeded to squeeze shut.

_Leave. Just..leave. You'll see him tomorrow. _

This time, Wilson listened to the voice, and, for some reason trembling, proceeded to take his things and leave the place.

For some reason, relief set in as he got into his car.

_See. You wanted to get away too. _

_---_

"_Your parents abused you, then?" The shrink said, talking mostly for himself. House didn't reply. He was sitting up on the bed, his back against the wall. They'd recorded him while he slept, and they'd caught more words from his lips than he'd have liked. _

"_You've got to say something." The shrink stated, and House just kept his arms around his legs. Something inside him told him he'd never get out if he didn't talk._

"_What did I say?" His hoarse voice rasped, and the shrink looked up at him, eyes narrowed._

"_Stop, dad. It hurts." The shrink, thankfully, didn't mimic how House had said it. He'd probably whimpered, or whined. Something pathetically childish._

"_I was a stupid kid. Got in trouble all the time." House stated, finally. _

"_Doesn't mean you deserved getting hurt." The shrink smoothly and swiftly replied. House looked at the shrink, eyes unfocused. _

"_He was in the military. And I wasn't his real kid. Mom cheated." House wasn't sure why he was saying this. Maybe the nightmares will go the way Amber did. The way Wilson did. _

_Wilson never came by anymore. It proved the fact that he'd hallucinated Wilson. After he'd come to the conclusion, after he'd somehow resolved it, Wilson continued to come for a bit, and then stopped altogether. _

_He really was just alone. _

_He wanted to get the fuck out of here. _


End file.
